Swallowing Cyanide
by ForbiddenDreams13
Summary: She swore she would kill him; she had to in order to avenge the death of her lover. So why was she finding it so hard to pull the trigger? Mentioned characrer death. T to be safe.


**Yes, that's right, another one-shot. I've actually had this idea in mind for a while now, but never before had the courage to deploy it. **

**Title: Swallowing Cyanide **

**Pairings: KuramaxBotan and a small bit of KarasuxBotan**

**Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho it not mine, but unlike my parents, I can pronounce the name correctly.**

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><p>If someone were to ask her how this could have occurred, her only answer would have been a blank stare. Truth be told, she had no idea how it happened. How, in the span of months, she had gone from independent young woman to assassin's pet. Laying there in the dark, curled up on the bed, Botan closed her eyes. Thick curtains blocked any sunlight from entering. It was not as if she was tired and wanted to keep the sun at bay, it was that she felt she did not deserve the sunlight. Warm, golden sunlight was for pure people, and she had become tainted long ago. Of it's own volition, her hand reached out to the nightstand and caressed the barrel of the gun that sat there, gleaming cold like a metallic cat's eye. Her eyes roamed to the closed door off to her left. It had been exactly three months ago that she'd woken up in this room, right arm bandaged due to a gunshot wound, head pounding, and him sitting at the edge of the bed.<p>

Her first reaction upon seeing him had been to spring up, only to have her arm screech at her in protest, giving him enough time to slam her back down on the bed. Powerless and infuriated, she glared up at her enemy. Try as she might however, pink flame could not melt those orbs of purple ice. He stared back at her with equal intensity, his gaze forcing her into submission. Botan did not back down. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and ground her teeth in hatred. How dare he! She would not allow him to overcome her, not after he had killed her most precious person! A low chuckle reverberated inside her chest as he smiled and sat up. Botan attempted to do likewise, but he put his hand on her shoulder, stilling her once more.

"No. Don't try to sit up. The wound isn't grave, but it's enough to have done you some damage. Lay back and rest."

She glared at him. "Karasu…" The word came out strangled by barely suppressed rage. Underneath the sheets, her hands balled into tight fists. Karasu smiled. Upon closer inspection, she realized he had taken his mask off. Figured, they were in his own home after all. He didn't need to disguise himself here.

Karasu's hand moved from her shoulder, and began to play with a lock of her hair. "I commend you for being able to come this far," he told her, curling the strands of cerulean blue around his index finger, "unfortunately, you failed in your attack, and therefore were unable to kill me. And now here you sit, wounded, in the home of your enemy."

"Spare me your words." She snarled, smacking his hand away from her hair. A couple strands tore loose, but that kind of pain she could deal with. Even the siren signals of her arm were mere pinpricks compared with the torrent of agony that resided in her heart. Ever since Kurama had been killed, life had become one endless journey. A journey taken solely for the purpose of killing the man who had been responsible for the death of her lover Botan could feel Karasu's eyes locked onto her being. Unable to bear that constant stare, she turned her head and stared at the window, which at that time had not been hidden by the curtains.

"So…I suppose you'll kill me now."

"My, my, you are a fool."

Lightning struck her mind, flaring her temper once more.

"What?" She growled. Karasu reached out and lightly touched the bandages covering her upper arm.

"If I'd wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. And before you answer me, I didn't miss. I purposely hit your arm. And another thing: If I'd really wanted to kill you, _really _wished to see you dead, I wouldn't have brought you here."

He was right. She could fight him all she want, but she couldn't fight his logic. Defeated, she lay back down on the bed. Karasu stood up and strode towards the door. The noise of the knob turning barely cut through the fog of sleep that was rapidly descending. However, his words reached her loud and clear.

"Stay here and rest. I refuse to die at the hands of someone weak. Of course, you couldn't even accomplish that feat when you were healthy."

He closed the door behind him. Botan curled up into a ball and buried her face in the pillow as silent tears began to stream down her cheeks.

She had often wondered why he had even bothered to leave her alive at all. It certainly wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. If he even had a heart. Her hand slid down to the trigger. She thought about gripping it in her hand, but instead let her hand flop back down on the bed. What was the point? Three months had gone by, her arm had healed, she had let too many opportunities to kill him slip by, and as a result of that, she was still here. She sighed. She had never been this weak of will before. Before, she had been strong, the kind of person who could stand up for herself and tell the whole world off if need be. It was that kind of person Kurama had fallen in love with. They had known each other since high school. She, the peppy, happy-go-lucky girl involved in any and every activity the school had going on. He, the quiet, reserved genius of the class. For three years, their academic circles never touched. Then, in her senior year, she signed up for Literature Club. A fledgling group, it had started out tentatively, but as it gained more people, it became more grounded in the school. One of those Johnny-come-lately's had been Kurama. The day they first spoke to each other stood out in stark clarity in contrast to all her other memories. It was, after all, that one event that had started everything.

She had been in the clubroom, tiding up after everyone else had gone home. So deep was she into what she was doing, she hadn't noticed her own book bag, which had been laying in the way, and had tripped over it, sending the flyers of next weeks joint meeting with the Young Writer's Club. While she picked herself up off the floor, cursing her book bag and herself, Kurama had strode into the room. Like a red-haired specter, he remained silent, observing the girl before him, kneeling on the ground amidst the processed tree by-product rain. Only when he coughed did she notice his presence. Frightened by the sudden noise, Botan leapt to her feet.

"Oh, hello there! Sorry I didn't see you, I just can't pick up my feet very well." She sad, giggling to hide her embarrassment. Kurama smiled at her. His eyes seemed to be glittering in the late-afternoon light that streamed in the window behind Botan.

"It's okay," he reassured her, bending down to pick up one of the many flyers that littered the floor. "I should have come earlier, but I had to help a friend of mine with a project."

"Come earlier, what do you mean? Do you need to speak to the president?"

"Yes unfortunately, but it seems he's not here right now."

"You just missed him." Botan replied. "Everyone left ten minutes ago."

"Ah, it seems I've also missed my chance."

"Chance for what?"

"Well," Kurama trailed off, looking a bit nervous, "I wanted to see if there was still room to join. I'd heard that the day before next week's joint club meeting was the deadline for anyone who wanted to join."

"Hm…I'm not sure of we… Oh! Hang on a minute!"

She then proceeded to rush to a file cabinet and fish through one of the drawers. Kurama stood by, looking quite confused. A manila folder was removed from an overstuffed drawer. From this file, Botan produced a membership handout. She walked back to Kurama, avoiding stepping on flyers along the way, and handed him the paper.

"In all reality, I'm not actually supposed to give this to you, that's the job of the president, or the vice-president, but in light of recent things, I'm sure they'll understand." She told him, smiling like the cat that at the canary. In turn, he smiled back and took the paper. He bid her goodbye and went for the door. However, he stopped at the threshold and turned back to her.

"My apologies, but you look familiar. Your name isn't Botan is it?"

Stunned, she dropped the few flyers that she had picked up.

"Yes, but how do you know my name?"

"We're in the same class. Your best friend, Keiko, is dating on of my friends, Yusuke Urameshi. I'm sure you've heard his name mentioned once of twice."

Indeed she had. Since Keiko and Yusuke had started dating in their freshman year, she had talked about him, not nonstop, but enough to make Botan aware of the fact that she'd been single since she'd first entered through the doors of the high school.

She gave Kurama a small nod. "And your name is?"

"Kurama." He replied, then turned on his heel, and walked out the door.

After that, they had started talking to each other more and more. Soon, one event led to another, and they had started dating. Once graduation rolled around, they discussed college plans. Botan was frightened that Kurama might have been planning to attend college half-way across Japan. Her fears had been assuaged when he told her his plan to attend the local university with her.

"After all," he had told jokingly her over a cup of tea they had gotten at a tea house her newly owned apartment, "we've survived each other this long, if college doesn't kill us, nothing will."

A grinning Botan raised her glass. "From one textbook loony bin to another." Kurama smiled back at her. They clinked their cups, mindful not to spill any tea.

A thin echo of a smile graced her lips. Those had been her happy days. So warm, so full of peace; and just like a foolish little girl, she believed those days would last forever. His funeral hung in the foremost portion of her mind, unforgettable. She remembered all the tears that had been shed on that day. Of course, no one had cried more than his own mother. Botan could not remember if she had been crying that day, or if she was still too numb from the actual shock of losing him to feel anything. She did remember the pain, the ripping in her heart, as if a part of her had been shot and buried in the coffin along with him; the searing, white-hot anger that set her mind ablaze when the police had given her a sketch of the man glimpsed outside of Kurama's apartment that night, just moments before he was killed. They told both her and his mother not to worry, they would catch this man soon enough.

'Soon enough' went by much slower than she expected. After a month had passed, she had marched down to the police station. Bursting through the door like the howling east wind, she strode up to a random police officer, demanding to see someone, anyone, who'd been put on the case of finding Kurama's murderer. By chance, the officer she'd grabbed was the very same one who'd told her and Shiori that they'd apprehend the culprit soon enough. His eyes shone sadly into her own. Sighing, he took Botan by the shoulders, and told her in a quiet voice, that they'd had no choice. It was time to let the case go cold.

Her mind plunged into an icy-cold lake of shock and denial. She grabbed his collar, pulling the poor officer closer to her face where she screeched at him, demanding how they could do that. How, could they just drop something so important in a mere _month? _The officer had shaken himself free of her iron grip, and in a reasonable, no argument voice, said that they'd done all they could, but they only had so much evidence to go on. With no witness testimonies, and no possible suspects, letting the case go cold was their only option.

Mentally cold and numb, she did not fight when the officer escorted her out of the station, patting her back in a reassuring manner, and attempting to sooth her with clichéd words. The only thing she'd felt were the tears that had slid down her face when she was safely shut away in her apartment. It was after that day, that she'd made up her mind to do something about it herself. She would find the bastard who'd killed her lover, and make him pay.

Botan rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Obviously, payment for him had yet to be due. However, as the weeks and months had gone by, she'd been finding it increasingly harder to kill him. Mindlessly, she let her fingers skim over the sheets on the bed. He would come in here on occasion, mostly after a kill had been made, and make love to her.

It was a strange act, Love-making wasn't the right term for it, as Botan was certain that he did not love her. It was more of a bizarre mating ritual. She would be sleeping when he entered through the front door, but when he opened the door to her room of confinement, she would always be up and alert in that very moment. His eyes would roam over her exposed chest, glowing with a primitive hunger. Since she had not been provided proper bed-clothes, she slept naked. Slowly, she would sit up, allowing the sheet to fall completely from her chest. His pupils would dilate from the view given to him by her female attributes, but he would remain by the door, almost as if unsure whether or not he should proceed. She was not stupid, he was acting and Botan knew it. They were simply playing a game. A game, to see who would fall to who first. It started with passionate kissing, moved on with roving hands, and flared up once both of them hit the bed. At first, Botan had been against it, fought it tooth and nail, but that was then. Now it just was. She had even gone so far as to surprise herself by taking a more active role during sex. With Kurama, she had been content to let him lead, but with Karasu, she refused to be dominated. She scratched. She bit. She drove him wild. Days passed, and she came to year for him to come into her room, yearned to feel his body vibrate with moans as she nipped and bit at his neck.

In some sick, dark way, she'd become attracted to him. She supposed, if twisted the right (or wrong) way, one could say Karasu had given her something that Kurama never had: a purpose. Ever since the day that he had killed Kurama, her sole reason for living was for her to find and kill the man who had taken her fiancé away from her. Whether she still clung to that purpose… Did she love him? She didn't think so, but then, if that was the case, why did she not kill him now and be done with it? If she still hated him, why not wait for him to return tonight and kill him? He never locked the door, her gun was still loaded, why not take his life tonight?

But what would become of her once he died? Would she, devoid of purpose, just cease to exist, or would she continue on, living a hollow life with nothing to fulfill it? Her thoughts wandered back to the gun sitting on the nightstand. If the time came, would she have the courage to look him in they eye and pull the trigger?

The sound of the front door opening derailed her train of thought. Without thinking, she began to strip, and concealed herself beneath the sheets. She knew what he would want. If she concentrated, she could feel his lust curling up the stairs and underneath the door, stroking her body before his hands could. With her head nestled on the pillow, she closed her eyes, just as she heard his feet begin up the steps. She listened to the slow click, click of his boots hitting each stair. Yes, she did love this man, but she because she loved him, she also hated him for it. He was not deserving of her love because he had taken it from her. He had corrupted her, tainted her, but then again, it wasn't as if she was wholly innocent.

Her eyelids fluttered as the knob began to turn. He opened the door. Light from the hallway spilled in, bathing her 'sleeping' form in it's electric imitation iridescence. Acting her part, she sat up, and turned towards the open doorway. He leaned up against the frame, one hand supporting him. Their eyes met. Like a dancer gliding through her movements, Botan stood up and walked over to him. His eyes trailed down her body with each step she took. They hovered on her nether regions for a brief moment, then floated back up to her face. Once she reached him, she placed her palms flat on his chest, he closed his eyes and took a breath, lips parted a fraction. Her mouth went to his neck where she nipped softly. He gasped and laid a hand on the back of her head.

"You've left the lights off." he remarked.

"That's because I don't want to use my eyes. I want to feel this, not see it."

Without a word, he caught her mouth, enveloping her lips in a poisoned kiss.

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><p>She stared down at him, aiming down the barrel of the gun, waiting for him to wake up. Outside, the moon had risen to its full height and, silver light tricked in through any path it could find. Somewhere, a dog howled, lost and lonely. Her eyes never left his body, lying there so calm and unaware. Deep in the pit of her mind, she felt that old hatred stir, but she fought it down. That very emotion was what he had been using to poison her with. The more she hated him, the more she had yearned for him. And so, he had slowly begun to poison her will, spoon-feeding her a mental poison in which she would begin to doubt her intentions. These thoughts swirled in her mind while she had been straddling him just a few moments ago, pushing her to the final decision. For too long, she'd lain on that very bed, debating what she was doing here, but now there was no mistake in her mind. She was here to kill him. To avenge Kurama's death and complete the one purpose that she'd been given. She would no longer swallow the poison he seemed to be so fond of giving her through skin-on-skin contact. Some part of her would regret this, she knew, but she could deal with that. The part of her that had fallen in love with this man was insignificant to the portion that had loved Kurama and now hated the man before her.<p>

Motion on the bed caught her attention. Karasu stirred, then sat up. He blinked in the moon-shot darkness. His gaze went to his left, pausing when he did not see Botan laying next to him. Slowly, as if in a dream, he raised his head and stared into the face of his captive. There was no long-lasting gaze, no words passed between either of them, no apologies murmured; there was only the sound of a gun firing and the sweet smell of gun powder.

When his dead body slumped forward on the bed, blood staining the sheets beneath it, Botan touched her face. She was not surprised to find that she was crying.

Not surprised at all.

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><p><strong>Eh, not one of my better written pieces in my opinion. Tell me what you think though. Your thoughts are always appreciated.<strong>


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